when worlds collide
by doomed-flower
Summary: "Love is not always wise. I've learned it can lead us to great folly. But we follow our hearts wherever they might take us." - The four worlds in which Margaery and Robb could not be together and one in which they could.
1. All I See Are Kings and Thieves

After finishing A Storm of Swords I was basically a mess. So I decided to write this, which is my kind of therapy even though writing this broke my heart all over again.  
Basically this is a compilation of different Margaery/Robb AUs. These will all be set in Westeros so no modernday!verse or anything. I just wanted to explore the different possibilities of what could have been (we could have had it alllllll) and well… some of these ended very badly, so be warned, you might need tissues….

This first one is loosely settled in a pre- A Game of Thrones world: Joffrey as King, no war, however the changes and how Margaery became Queen are explained later. Just imagine House Stark and the Baratheons being VERY close and Robb and Joffrey getting along quite well as children (unthinkable.., I know!) the rest is hopefully clear!

_**All I See Are King's And Thieves**_

_why are we so incomplete  
when all I own is just dust and gold_

She hates nothing more than her crown. There was a time when she desired and dreamt of it, when all she lusted for was might and being the Queen although she never wanted to abuse those powers. Now she hates it more than anything: the heavy accessory on top of her head, the stiff material of her gown and the sweet smiles of people she knows would kill her in her sleep if she was not careful.  
Her husband makes it no easier. His mood changes from adoring to cruel in mere seconds but over the years she has learned on how to act and what to say around him to avoid raising his temper. After King Robert and Lord Eddard Stark passed away tragically during a fight with bandits of the Vale, Joffrey was crowned King with his mother Cersei as Regent and to everyone's surprise appointed Robb Stark as Hand. Many had thought of another Lord like her own father, but even more so of a Lannister to strengthen their position in the capital. However, the crown needed the North and the Starks had not only proven to be a good alliance against Robert's brothers and defending the throne but the eldest son was a great strategist, seeming to know a lot about battle for his young age. Had Margaery not known that he had just seen his eighteenth name day when she met him, she would have thought him much older although he had a certain childlike gleam in his deep blue eyes that had fascinated her from the moment she came to court.  
After Stannis was killed and Renly had fled to Essos with her brother, Margaery had been presented to King Joffrey like a conquered city and he had gladly agreed to marry her. She however, had barely registered his sweet words and compliments when she stood in the Great Hall before his throne as her gaze kept wandering to the man beside him, a man with fiery curls and a small smile tugging at his lips. She knew from the moment she laid eyes on Robb Stark he would be her undoing, but with the moons passing it seemed he was the only solace she had inside the Red Keep.

She lies down on her bed, her shoulders sore from sitting in the throne room for far too long. Joffrey trusts her as much as to let her be present when the common folk comes before him and she must admit she is a good addition to these occasions, calming his spirit and giving generosities to the people. But her back, her head, her _heart_ hurts now. She can still feel her husband's gaze linger on her when she stood to leave, still feel his hand squeezing hers possessively and wandering to her flat stomach. It makes her feel sick how happy her pregnancy makes him already because how is she going to survive this; how is she going to tell him?  
A short knock on the door is the only warning she has and then he enters her room, quickly shuts the door and locks it so no one might disturb them.  
"Took you long enough, my lord", she breathes and is in his arms before he can even make as much as one step in her direction. His lips break into a smile under hers. "Gods, I could barely listen to anything those people had to say with you looking at me like that", Robb whispers back his mouth now tracing the side of her neck he can reach while his hands encircle her waist and run up and down her spine. She shivers in his embrace. "We ought to be careful though, your smiles might be noticed." She does not answer, only wraps her arms around his middle and rests her head on his shoulder.  
She does not remember how it came to this but after months of longing looks and shy smiles she somehow ended up in the Tower of the Hand, discussing the money for reparations in Flee Bottom with him. And in the middle of Robb arguing that _yes, he felt sorry for these people as well but they really needed all the gold they had to build new ships and repay their __debts__ to the Iron Bank _she had grown so frustrated and tired of his excuses that she just needed him to shut up - only she did it by crossing the room and kissing him with so much force, it made him stumble backwards and into the wall.  
They have been a secret ever since. Sneaking around when they think no one watches and even so much as sleeping in one another's bed when Joffrey is off to Casterlyrock or Storm's End or wherever he goes, she does not really care anyway. She knows she is playing a dangerous game and her father, brothers, grandmother would call her foolish if they knew but Robb is no game to her, he is so much more than that. When her husband decides to share her bed on those rare nights she hates his wandering hands and sloppy kisses and wants to kick him out but she suspects he might feel the same way. There is a reason she has not given him an heir after three years of marriage. No, Joffrey does not seem to enjoy sharing a bed with her or any woman for that matter as she has not heard of whores or bastards. Margaery however, enjoys herself very much whenever she is visited by Robb Stark.

They are curled around each other, a tangled mess of arms and legs intertwined and heavy breaths floating over the other's skin. She needs to tell him, she knows she does but she cannot bring herself to let the words leave her tongue. It would change everything; it will cost their heads if the child is born with auburn curls and Tully blue eyes. She could lie if she wanted to, drink moon tea and let everyone think she lost the baby in an early stage of pregnancy like it happens so often. Joffrey would be furious and Robb would look at her with sad, knowing eyes but _they would be alive_.  
If only there was not that desperate part of her that wants him to know that she is carrying his son or daughter, that wants to keep him or her and try to hold on to that small piece of happiness.  
Dim moonlight shines through her window, lights his chest which she draws lazy circles on with her ring finger and if she does not tell him now she knows she never will. "I am with child", she whispers against his shoulder with her heart pounding rapidly, the words an incoherent mumble that he seems to understand nonetheless. She closes her eyes, waiting for his reaction. His entire body freezes under hers, his hands stop the slow movements on her back and she can feel his breath catch in his throat. "It is yours", she adds quickly, turning his face with a touch of her hand so she can look him in the eye, because she cannot possibly let him believe the other horrible option. "Joffrey has been to my chamber almost a moon ago but he was so drunk that he barely managed to take off his clothes before falling asleep. I swear-" He breaks her off with a feverish kiss, pressing her into the mattress and it catches her so off guard that she lets out a surprised squeal but returns it nonetheless and runs her fingers through his silky hair. She can feel him smile and when he breaks away and she can finally study his face, there is no worry or anger or frustration written on it. Instead he seems the happiest she has ever seen him, his eyes shining down on her, his lips curved into a grin and he looks at her with so much adoration and awe that she raises her hand to his cheek and kisses him again _and again and again_ until they are both breathing heavily.  
"Run away with me." His words hang between them as her features turn from happy to worried, her grin fading as she shakes her head. The meaning of what he said knocks the breath out of her lungs. "Robb, I can't. You know I-"  
"Yes, you can." He takes her hands in his, looking at her with almost desperate determination in his blue eyes. "There has been talk in the North of freeing our land, of becoming an independent kingdom. We could be safe; the three of us and when I am King there would be nothing-"  
"What you suggest is high treason! You could never win a war. Your Lords may rise for independence but how many men could you gather? Thirty-thousand? Thirty-thousand men against a whole nation of armies, soldiers, knights and their wealthy Lords ready to defend Joffrey's honor. They would crush us before we even passed the Twins and then have our heads on spikes atop the castle walls." It makes her angry how blind he seems to the problem at hand. He cannot be so foolish to think they could run away, free the North and live out the rest of their lives in peace. She may be a wife but she is also the Queen, her responsibility is to all Seven Kingdoms and not only to him, even though she wishes it was not. She does not even want to think about what her family would have to suffer through if she betrays Joffrey. So she shoves him away and reaches for her night gown, pulling the cream, lacy silk over her head. "We cannot have this child, Robb", she says, her voice softer now and laced with the heaviness of her confession. "He would kill us all, your family, my family - they would all pay for our mistake."  
"Then why did you tell me?" He sounds angry but she does not turn around, runs her hands over her face instead as if that is going to help her figure this out. "Because I thought you had a right to know", she admits quietly. She can hear him moving behind her and then his arms sneak around her body, his forehead pressed against her shoulder and the heat of his chest warming her back. For a few moments he only breathes in time with her but when he raises his voice again he sounds as dead as she feels: "If that is what you want." It is not. She wants to run away with him and never look back but there are things she simply cannot do, not even for him. So she just nods and tries to suppress the tears filling her eyes.

"I have thought about names already." Joffrey looks at her in his usual, arrogant way while he raises his glass to his lips and takes a large sip of sweet summer wine even though it is not even noon yet. They are seated in the solar, large doors to the balcony open wide so the fresh air can circulate through the room.  
"Maester Amenius should not have told you of my pregnancy until we can be certain the child will survive. I have heard the first months are commonly known for miscarriages." She tries to change the subject. It had been a mistake to go to the new Maester she knows that now but she had been so confused and terrified that she did not seem to have a choice. She had thought the gold her grandmother paid him would keep him on the Tyrell side but of course that corrupt idiot of a man had told the King immediately and left her no other option but to act happy and overjoyed.  
Joffrey eyes her curiously over the table, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, red streaks of wine coloring them as he reaches for her hand and squeezes it tightly. "Do not worry, my Queen. I know you are strong and will deliver a healthy son into this world." She tries to return his smile but it must look pained so her husband lets go of her. She feels sick even sitting across from him and discussing a child that is neither his nor will ever see the light of day. Even with Robbs arms safely locked around her the past night she could not find sleep and caught herself thinking about his proposal to run away. The thought makes her heart flutter and oh, she wants it with everything she is but it will curse every person she ever loved and she simply cannot do it if only for the sake of her family.  
"So I had thought of Robert after my late Lord Father…" he talks on but Margaery does barely listen, picking at the bread on her plate with her fingers although she feels like she might heave if she eats one bite. She hates how he so confidently assumes it will be a boy and it makes her sad that she will never find out if it is.  
"Your Grace, Lord Hand is here to see you", a servant announces and she feels like she is falling because _gods, can this morning get any worse?_ Normally she has no problem being in the same room with both men because she can play the loving wife and catch secret glances from her lover at the same time, but as Robb walks in she wants to run and hide in her chambers, her stomach twisting and turning with anxiety.  
"Ah, Lord Stark what a wonderful morning, is it not?" Joffrey seems to not have lost his good mood and stands up, gesturing towards a third chair at their breakfast table. "Come now; sit with me and my Queen! We have good news to share with you."  
Robb's gaze lingers on her a second longer than necessary, his face missing the usual friendliness and the blue in his eyes is as cold as winter itself. "Thank you, Your Graces", he nods. "But I am afraid I came because of other matters. There is a Small Council awaiting us, Your Majesty, whose meeting is of utmost importance today." He does not look at her again, his eyes focused on her husband and then on the floor like the loyal servant he tries to be. She furrows her brows at him and his words, because Small Council meetings are **always** important but Robb told her a year ago that he gave up on convincing Joffrey to attend them. It must be a very special matter indeed if he comes before the King now.  
"Oh, but we have to tell you of the delightful news we received! I think it is finally time we share them with you, my friend."  
"Joffrey-" She tries to stop him but he talks on as if he did not hear her but most likely he just does not want to. "Maester Amenius only just confirmed that the Queen is with child and soon our realm will have an heir to the Iron Throne that is not my whiny little brother."  
She sees Robb's face harden for the blink of an eye but he hides it with a fake smile almost the same moment. She can tell it is not genuine by the way his eyes remain cold and icy, his lips do not break into that sweet grin, but she doubts Joffey will notice. Her heart aches nonetheless because all she wants to do is kiss the crease between his brows until it softens, but she remains seated, trying to avoid his gaze and she forces herself to smile sweetly. How did she get in a position where she is lying to her husband and lets him lie to her lover all the same? How did she get in a position where she is carrying an illegitimate child she tries to pass off as a royal heir?  
"Congratulations, Your Graces. I understand that you might want to spend the day with your Queen, my King. I will attend the meeting on my own then, if you excuse me." He is out the door before anyone can say a word or she can even so much as try to stand from her seat and call out his name. She can only stare at the closed door and curse herself for ever being so foolish to let herself fall in love with him.  
"It seems to me Robb Stark is jealous." Joffrey shrugs and for the worst of all seconds she thinks they have been discovered because it always seemed so impossible to go two years without being noticed by anyone. Her head snaps in his direction but as her gaze meets that of her husband, she can see the disinterest on his face. "I mean, he most likely wants a wife and child himself. I never understood why he remained on his own for so long, he is the Hand of the King and the Lord of Winterfell. He must have marriage proposals from all over the country." She does not answer just smiles and tries to eat some of her breakfast to fill the hole that has taken over her body.

He is packing when she walks into his room and for a moment her head, her whole world is spinning because she thought it had been a mistake, because this cannot be true. "No", she breathes and is in front of him within a second, grabbing his hands and as he pushes them away she reaches for the clothes he has packed already instead and throws them onto the floor.  
"Margaery", he tries to calm her but she does not look up, just grabbing blindly at things within her reach and turning his room into a complete mess with books and clothing scattered all over it. "How dare you?" Her voice is an angry scream but she does not care that someone might hear her. "How dare you announce your retirement as Hand and leave me alone with these… these monsters?"  
"Margaery", he tries again but _oh no_, she is not finished yet. "Did you even plan on telling me? Or would you just have left and let Varys or Joffrey inform me of your departure?"  
And finally, finally she looks up at him, her chest trembling with heavy breaths and she can see the anger and desperation she feels, that is most likely burning in her eyes, written on his face. Gods, she has never seen him more furious. "And when did you plan on telling me that Joffrey believes it is his child you are carrying?" She is taken aback then, her eyes widening while she leans away from him to study his face. Did it matter that much? As far as he knew there would be no child to bring into this world when she had the chance and it would not matter if the bloodied sheets were due to Robb or Joffrey. But of course it mattered and not only to him. It matters to her as well.  
"I did not mean to. That idiot Amenius told him", she whispers and it only takes one, two heartbeats before he takes her in his arms and runs his hands through her long brown hair, whispering '_I am so sorry_' and '_I am a fool_' and '_I love you_'s into her cheek. Tears burn in her eyes, tears she has been holding back ever since she found out about the life growing inside of her. She knows it was not Joffrey's words that made him leave his position, she knows he must have decided it last night when they lay in her bed and she thought him to be asleep. But surprisingly, this does not matter to her. She made her choice the minute she heard of his and ran up the stairs to his chamber, and she cannot bring herself to regret it.  
"I am coming with you then", she says and when he does not respond - not with a single sound - she leans back to look at him and repeats the words more loudly, slowly so they might get into that thick skull of his. "I am coming with you."  
He sighs, his eyes closing for a second and a sad smile on his face, his fingers tracing her cheeks when he shakes his head. "Margaery…"  
"No", she wipes angrily at her tears to hide the tracks they made. "I thought about it all day and when I heard you would leave, when I thought you would leave me and never come to see me again… I knew I did not want to live in such a world." She knows he wants to interrupt her because it seems he is the one who tries to reason now, make her see how foolish and risky and completely dumb their plan is but she will not let him talk her out of this, not now. "We can free the North if we and all those Lords and Ladies fight with all the strength in us, I know we can, and with the help of the armies of the Reach, of your uncle in the Riverlands and perhaps even your aunt in the Vale maybe we have a fair shot at winning this, maybe we have a chance to be happy." Her voice is softer now, a smile grazing her lips that he does not return although she knows he wants to. It was his suggestion they leave together and as much as he may wants her to believe that has changed, she can see in his eyes that it has not.  
"It is dangerous", is the only thing he says and she sighs, raising her hands to frame his face, the corners of her lips turning upwards. "I would rather live a hundred dangerous lives by your side than only one without you." He kisses her softly then, shaking his head but silly laughter escape his mouth and it is sealed.

_Everything had gone so well_, she thinks. She had looked forward to a future at Robb's side and even if her marriage to Joffrey could never be invalidated, if they never won the war, she would have been at his side, with their child - illegitimate or not, what does it matter to them. Everything had gone so well until it had not.  
"You think you can come to my castle, eat at my table, rule beside me and just steal my wife away?!" Joffreys voice is laced with venom, the cruelest she has ever heard him. The back end of the spear comes down again, hitting Robb in the stomach and a whimper leaves her lips as tears prick her eyes. Everything had gone so well until they were caught.  
"You think you can put a bastard in her and that gives you the right to take her to your precious North and humiliate me in front of everyone?!" Another strike hits his face, leaving a bloody line on his cheek and she cries out with him as if it hurt her as well. "Please, Joffrey…", she begs and tries once more to free herself but Meryn Trant's grip is bruising on her arms, twisting them back in a violent angle.  
Joffrey turns to her then, raising his finger and pointing at her furiously. "And you, you little _bitch_!" He stalks towards her, loud steps in the hall that echo from the red walls but she keeps his gaze. "You thought you could betray me, your HUSBAND, your KING, and give bastards to this traitor for what?" He shakes his head, runs his hand over his face and into his blonde hair and nods then. Her breath is knocked out of her the next second as the spear hits her in the stomach and she curls herself together trying to absorb the pain. _No, my baby_, she thinks, as Trant's foot comes down on her back again and again and she can hear Robb cry out and beg but she has no strength left in her to open her eyes or utter a sound. She just lays still, taking the pain and praying to the Gods they may forgive her as red and white overtake her.  
"Love", she can hear Joffrey snort. "Look where love got you: a bastard in your belly, a traitor in your bed and it has turned you into a traitor yourself." Another hit, another scream - hers or Robb's, she is not sure - and then Joffreys disgusting laugh. "I will show you how much your love is worth now."  
Hit after hit follows and leaves her body burning, aching until she goes numb; until she does not feel anything and just floats in darkness, praying that it might end soon.  
She wakes up in her bed, the covers tugged safely around her and for a second she believes everything is alright, everything is fine until she tries to move her arm and it _burns, burns, burns_. Her throat is dry, her head hurts and when she opens her eyes she has to blink a few times to adjust to the bright sunlight. Joffrey sits at her bedside, a victorious grin on his lips and it all comes rushing back to her then: the child and Robb and their plan to escape, how they tried to make it look like they were just taking a walk through the city and how Clegane caught them and screams, blood and Robb, _oh Robb_….  
She wants to scramble out of bed, bring as much space between herself and that monster of a King as she can, but she cannot even manage to move a limb. All he does is laugh at her helplessness and she feels sick even looking at him. _Why is she still alive?_  
"Good day to you too, Your Grace." He spits her title out like it is venom on his tongue and her fingers curl into fists around the thin sheets. She wants to say something, ask why she is still alive or what he is doing here or most importantly where Robb is, but her throat burns and all she can do is make an incoherent sound. He laughs again.  
"If you are wondering why I left you alive even though you are a traitorous whore… as much as I feel disgusted even looking at you, you are the key to the hearts of the people and I could not execute you without risking a riot. And that crippled brother of yours might rise in rebellion. It is enough that we have a war at our hands that includes the North alone; I do not need more problems." Her heart sinks, the breath knocked out of her at his words because if the North has risen in rebellion it can only mean one thing and that cannot be true, no it cannot. Tears build in her eyes but she tries to hide them, turning her head away while her whole chest contracts in pain. _No, no, no_… "Do not think you can ever betray me that way again - then I will have your head. Too sad I cannot have yours next to his, you would make such a beautiful pair." She wants to scream but all she can get out is a muffled sound and he laughs again, loudly and open mouthed and so disgustingly spiteful that with all her strength, she tries to throw herself at him, fists first to scratch at his eyes or strangle him with bare hands but he pushes her back easily and she falls into the pillows, curled away from him without any will left in her. "I will tell the Master to bring you moon tea now", is all he says before she can hear him leave and lets her tears fall freely. Everything had gone so well and now she had lost all she ever loved.

_She is a Tyrell_, she thinks, when they carry away the blood stained sheets, the only remaining thing of a child that should have had chestnut hair and deep blue eyes and run around Winterfell with silly laughter on its lips.  
_She is a Tyrell_, she thinks, when hateful gazes linger on her while she walks through the castle and she can hear them whisper **whore** and **traitor** behind her back.  
_She is a Tyrell_, she thinks, when Joffrey lets one of his Kingsguard hit her until she is covered in blue and green bruises and he laughs so hard he almost falls off this damned throne.  
_She is a Tyrell_, she thinks, when he shares her bed with rough hands and painful thrusts and she bites back tears because she cannot give him that satisfaction.  
_But she could have been a Stark_, she thinks, when she hears word of the North freeing itself and Robb's bones being sent to Winterfell. She could have been a wolf with claws and sharp edged teeth instead of a simple rose with small thorns.  
She is a Tyrell but she would have been a Stark, the Queen in the North, mother of a Prince or Princess and heir to the kingdom. She would have been until those dreams were crushed in front of her, until Robb's head was put on a spike above the castle walls and they made her kill her own child; until they ripped out her beating heart.

A hundred years later, she will be known as **Margaery the Strong** or the **Queen of the Common Folk** but there will be tales whispered of _Margaery the Heartbroken_ and songs _of Margaery the Miserable_. Mothers will tell their daughters the story of the most beautiful Queen with the kindest of hearts but that when they beheaded her secret beloved, she lost all ability to smile. She was a gracious ruler, helped the poor wherever she could and was an inspiration to any woman as she gave birth to two daughters and a son, endured the assaults of her husband, _Joffrey the Cruel_, and outlived him as well. But rumors have it that when her son Robert, the Second of his name, of the Houses Baratheon and Tyrell, was born she always called him Robb and when she died her last wish was for her bones to be brought to the Kingdom of the North and buried at Winterfell next to the _King Who Never Was._

* * *

As I said there will be four more of these. Also please note that English is not my mothertongue so I would appreciate it if you could point out any grammar/spelling mistakes so I can correct and learn from them. :)


	2. If Love Is What You Need

**_ If Love Is What You Need A Soldier I Will Be_**

_t__hey say before you start a war__  
__you better know what you're fighting for__  
__well baby you are all that I adore__  
__if love is what you need a soldier I will be_

It was her father who arranged the betrothal. It was her father who broke it. And they would make him pay for it.

'_My love, forgive these badly written lines but I am in a hurry to be by your side. I am riding for Winterfell on the morrow and send our fastest raven with this letter. You must know that none of the rumors you might hear were spread by me and if they hurt your soul I am deeply sorry for the pain my father and his rash decisions have caused you. But you need to believe me that I only desire to be the wife of one man and one man alone. I will be by your side soon if I take our fastest horse and I swear by the Old Gods and the New that nothing may separate us from that moment on.__  
__Forever, your loyal Lady Margaery_',

says the first letter in her writing, hastily scribbled onto a piece of paper and he can almost see her running up the Maesters tower and attaching it to the dark feathered bird in a hurry. Her words would warm his heart if there was not the other raven he received shortly afterwards. **Dark wings, dark words…**

_'It is with our utmost honour and pleasure that we announce the union of His Grace King Joffrey, of the Houses Lannister and Baratheon, First of His Name, King of the Andals and Rhoynar, Lord of the Six Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, and Lady Margaery of House Tyrell, by marriage in sight of the Seven.__  
__You are hereby sincerely invited to witness the ceremony held at the Great Sept of Baelor_'

There is a date written under it in elegant hand but what does it matter now if this takes place three or four moons from now?  
"What is it", Theon asks because he must have paled noticeably while reading. He feels sick to his stomach - he knows Margaery would never do this, her first letter meant to remind him of how much they feel for one another, how much both of them were looking forward to their wedding. It must have been Mace Tyrell, who will marry her off to another King closer to his home and more profitable to his house. His fists ball around the piece of paper. It is a sick joke to send him an invitation for everyone in the North and the Six Kingdoms knew that Lady Margaery was betrothed to King Robb of House Stark.  
"It is an invitation to King Joffreys wedding to Margaery", he says, voice hard and emotionless even though anger and desperation and betrayal all burn in his veins. He cannot show it, not even before his closest friend. He is a King, no boy who cries over lost opportunities. He is a King but he hurts nonetheless.  
"That son of a b-" Theon stops, when Robb looks down on him, shaking his head. "I am sorry, Your Grace, but you cannot tell me he sent this letter with best intentions."  
When had Joffrey ever had someone else's best interests in mind? No, this is a stab aimed at his heart to show him how less the other Kingdom thinks of him, to make him believe Margaery has given up on him. But she has not. He knows she has not and that she will wait for him.  
"You do not have to go to King's Landing, Your Grace", Maester Luwin says and he can feel the old man's worried eyes on his face. He shakes his head. No, he does not have to. He could leave this letter unanswered, forget about the young Lady he loves with all his heart and wed a daughter of one of his banner men like they had urged him to do for so long now. He had never accepted though because the moment he had laid eyes on Margaery he knew he could never belong to another. And he never will. He could ignore Joffrey's words and her father's betrayal but there is a reason his beloved tried to escape to Winterfell, there is a reason she sent him a warning.

"But I do", he answers coldly because he owes it to Margaery to fight for her, for them. He owes it to her not to sit in his castle and let her marry Joffrey. "I do but I will not go for their wedding." He takes a deep breath but it will not make him change his mind, nothing could. "Call the banners."

_They had met in a world full of white and grey and cold. She had shivered under thick furs but he thought he had never seen anything more beautiful than the girl before him with long, chestnut curls cascading from under the hood of her cloak and doe eyes taking in her surroundings with awe while snowflakes settled on her dark eyelashes. He had barely registered Lord Tyrells words of how honoured he and how beautiful the North was. The girl beside him was much more worthy of his attention. So when he thought it appropriate - after welcoming the family and leading them into the castle - he had bowed before her and pressed a kiss to her cold hand which made her blush so adorably he needed to suppress his laugh._

_"I hope you will not be cold for long, my lady", he had said and she shook her head, granting him a small smile. "I am sure I will adapt shortly." When she had followed her family into the castle and taken one last glance at him, he knew he had made the right decision in accepting Mace Tyrells proposal._

_At first he had thought of it as a purely political marriage. He needed the wealth of Highgarden and the crops of the Reach for his own people even though House Tyrell was bound to another kingdom. He did not expect for the young lady to take his heart the moment he met her because he had expected a simple southern flower that would freeze and shiver in the cold of Winterfell._

_But when had he showed her around her future home on the second day of her stay, he soon realized she was anything but simple. Her brown eyes had grown wide with everything she saw, her musical laughter echoing through the woods. "So this is where I will become yours", she had asked, pointing towards the heart tree while glancing curiously at him but he could have sworn there was a glint of playfulness in her eyes. He had felt blood flooding his cheeks and scratched the back of his head nervously. "Aye, you know we take to the Old Gods here but if you want, we can have another ceremony in my mother's sept." He had almost stumbled over his words and grew annoyed with himself. Her presence made him as nervous as the boy he had not been ever since his father was killed by wildlings and they put Eddard's crown on his head. __  
__"No", she had said and her lips broke into the sweetest of smiles. "If I am to be Queen in the North I will make my vows in front of the northern gods. Your Lords already do not accept me as it is so I have to make them see that I am more than a fragile rose." He had been surprised by her honesty and how easy she seemed to accept the northern culture and had shaken his head in astonishment, taking her hand with a small laugh and leading her back towards the castle. "It is not important what my Lords think. You will be their Queen soon and they will bow to you like they do before me", he had promised and she had looked so happy, he had wished for nothing to ever wash that smile from her face. __  
__She had kissed him only a week after her arrival, stealing him away into the godswood and running her hands through his hair. She tasted like summer, like apples and berries and wine and left him absolutely breathless. It had been clear to him then that this marriage would not be based on advantages and gold but maybe even so on love._

-

"You foolish child!" As soon as her grandmother sees her - red eyes and dark circles underneath - she shakes her head disapprovingly. "What you did could have cost our heads, do you not understand?" It looks like she wants to grab her shoulders and shake some sense into her but instead she sighs and sits down at the small table in the solar.  
They had caught her only a day's ride from home and dragged her back to Highgarden, back before her father who would have disowned her if there would have been anything else he could have taken from her. They had put her into a sweetly decorated carriage and brought her to King's Landing the next day. She was greeted with smiles and warm hugs but underneath the masks she could see how everyone disapproved of her. "This is the Lady who would rather be with the harsh, cold King in the North than our beloved Joffrey", she heard the maids whisper. They hated her and the feeling was mutual but she was taught to smile politely and be the ever so gracious lady, so smile she did.

"What father did was dishonourable and wrong. I was promised to King Robb two years ago and he threw that alliance away to bring me to this place", she exclaims frustrated, running her hands through her loose waves. Olenna looks at her warningly, shaking her head again and again and she feels so childish and silly. "I never meant to disgrace our family", Margaery adds softly then, sitting down across from her grandmother and when their eyes meet she can see a gleam of sympathy in the old lady's gaze. With that last string of hope she grabs her hand and gives it a soft but urgent squeeze. "Please, grandmother, you need to make them see that this is wrong. I cannot marry Joffrey, it will break Robb's heart." She does not even want to think of what it will do to herself, of what it had already caused her. Olenna scoffs only, but keeps their fingers intertwined.  
"What do I care about that boy and his hurt pride? His kingdom was never part of ours, never taken by the Targaryens and instead that stupid aunt of his broke lose a revolution that set those Baratheons on the throne. They dug their own grave then and we need to think of our house. You are far better off as Queen of the Six Kingdoms than Queen in the North" and she mumbles on of roses that will fade in snow and how she would be envied by every women in the realm but Margaery stops listening, looking down instead because this was her last hope and she lost it. No one gives her a choice, no one wants to understand.

She remembers how her father told her, looking at her with so much pride in his eyes she thought she would cry tears of anger because did he not see? She did neither desire to be Queen nor to be the wife of that blonde boy sitting on a throne and leaving the country in ruins. Her body, heart and soul belonged to another man, another kingdom. They thought they would make her happy but in reality they destroyed her.

"Margaery", her grandmother calls out with anger laced into her voice. "You must wed the King or we all will pay for your mistake. The Lannisters do not take betrayal lightly and what you did could almost be considered treason. You cannot do it again, do you hear me?", and she presses on her hand so hard, it brings tears to her eyes. "They will have our heads on spikes on these walls because your father was dumb enough to make an arrangement you could not keep. They will destroy us all, you and Mace and your brothers, so you will bring that pretty smile to your face, stand before the king and tell him how much you admire and love him, do you understand?"  
No, she does not and she will not understand, all of them be damned, but she cannot curse her innocent brothers to such a cruel fate. So she nods, any sign of hope fading from her eyes.

But when she stands before Joffrey and lies of how much she has come to love him from afar, how she only ran because she was scared of Robb Stark's wrath, she thinks of auburn curls and loving smiles and Tully blue eyes and somehow hope returns to her.  
"It is decided then", Joffrey exclaims grinning down on her but all she hears are her own words she wrote _him_ and how _he_ must know that she will wait forever if she has to until they will be reunited. "Three moons from now you will be my Queen. And I will love you from this day until my last day."

_Three moons_, she thinks, _please let that be enough_.

He has twenty-thousand men who could easily be outnumbered by all the armies of the Six Kingdoms. _Bloody murder_, his men call it, _a waste and useless_. But it is not to him. When they pass the Twins he promises off Sansa and Bran and feels sick to his stomach under the judging eyes of his mother. "All this for a simple girl", he hears the Greatjon say one evening. "If this is Robert's Rebellion all over again she will be dead when we reach King's Landing and even if he takes Joffreys head, this war will have destroyed him." The words make him angrier than he has ever been and he just wants to make all of them see that Margaery is not a simple girl and they will get to her in time, they have to.  
His uncle, Lord Edmure, allies with them when they reach the Riverlands. "Maybe it is time for us to rule ourselves again", he says and Robb does not correct him that the Lords of Riverrun never were kings in their own right.  
He only realizes he does not have a plan when his Lords and Ladies are gathered one evening and look at him with waiting eyes. "It was only a betrothal", Rickard Karstark calls out after a while, earning nods and encouraging shouts. "Stop this foolishness, wed one of our daughters and let it be." Robb has to stop himself from slamming his fists on the wooden table and Grey Wind growls at the Lords words as if the thought of leaving Margaery hurts him just as much as it does his companion. "Mace Tyrell betrayed me", the King hisses through clenched teeth. "He spit on my honour, he spit on the North and you want me to stand by and let him gloat over how he embarrassed the North and its King?" Silence fills the room only broken by the heavy breaths escaping his lips. "You want everyone to laugh at us? You want them to think we are easily fooled; that we let traitors and oath breakers live out the rest of their lives in peace? If that is so, you can take your men and ride back North to your wives and let them sing songs of how we were not even able to rescue one _simple_ girl. So whoever wants to leave, do it now!"  
His voice and fingers shake with anger, with anxiety. No one rises, as he expected. There is one thing the North values above anything else and it is honour. They will not have a southern Lord betray them and let him find peace. ("_When we hunted the Targaryens off our land, that family were only stewards to a King who was dumb enough to get his entire house killed by dragons!_") If he betrayed their King, he betrayed them and even though Robb hears whispers of "_She is still just a girl_" or "_We are digging our own grave_" none of his men leave.

They win the first battle gloriously, the Lannister army not prepared for the strength of the Northerners and even though they were outnumbered one to three, they lose few men, instead taking several high Lords captive including the Kingslayer. When they reach the encampment outside the castle, his mother runs towards him and hugs him so close, it almost hurts more than all the scars he endured during the fight because he can feel her desperation, her worry and anger at him for risking his life for a _simple girl_. He knows she liked Margaery but to her this is not worth the danger he puts himself in.  
Three days later, two thousand men of the Vale arrive, bowing before Robb and swearing fealty to him in the name of his aunt Lysa.  
"I did not expect her to come to our aid", Catelyn says that evening over a small meal of bread and meat. Robb shrugs. "They say she wants the independence of the Vale for her son, Robert. We are the only ones who can give her that." He sends her back home after that, home to his younger siblings who need their mother because he cannot be selfish and keep her to himself. He is a King. He is not meant to be scared and in need of comfort from his mother.  
More men sent by Lady Arryn join forces with them the longer they stay at Riverrun and the number of his army grows to about fifty thousand. Soon, news of the Baratheon brothers raising their banners to end Joffrey's three year reign and put Stannis on the throne reach them. The whole country is at war, _again_, because of a _simple girl_. The whole country is at war and all the child king seems to have left are the Westerlands and the Reach.  
There are feasts with loud songs and laughter echoing through the castle walls even though they only fought one great battle, but to them it feels like they are winning without even trying. To Robb it feels he is losing with every day that passes and Margaery is held in King's Landing.

_She had imagined the soft lines of his face all the way back from Winterfell and only when they finally reached Highgarden had she admitted to herself that she did so because she missed him already. She had kissed him several times - in the silence of the godswood, one morning in his chambers, in corridors and corners away from prying eyes because it had been what her grandmother told her to do. "Make him lose his head over you. A few kisses in dark corners should be enough. No boy of ten and eight could be able to resist you", were her words when they departed Highgarden and she had done what Olenna suggested. The only thing she had not planned on was how good it felt when Robbs arms would sneak around her back, his hands covering her cheeks, his fingers trailing through her hair or that it would only leave her wanting more. His lips had tasted of salt and snow, soft and cold against hers when she pressed him into a wall, only a few corridors away from her parent's temporary chambers. She remembered how she shivered in his arms when he had breathed her name as they broke apart.__  
__At the beginning she had been happy to hear she would be Queen and marry a man of her age even though he lived so far from home. She had not expected he would make her heart flutter, her cheeks flush and her breath catch in her throat._**_You are acting like a foolish handmaiden_**_, she thought whenever she would catch his gaze on her but she could not help the smile that would turn the corners of her lips upwards.__  
__Only a few months after their journey back to the Reach he had followed her wish to visit him. She had sent a raven with words of how much she would love for him to see the roses and the sun and the castle of Highgarden and he wrote back, announcing his arrival three moons later. Her heart had pounded against her ribs with excitement and she almost flew down the stairs to her father's chambers, presenting him Robb's words. But even through her happiness did she notice her father's displeased features. "Surely, when His Grace is to leave back to Winterfell we will accompany him so we can be wed", she had asked, never taking her gaze of the Lord of Highgarden but Mace had merely shaken his head.__  
__She had eyed her father curiously; suspicious as to why he wanted to wait so long for them to be married. She was a flowered woman and it was unusual to make several visits to the betrothed's home without getting married. Mace only told her not to worry her "pretty little head" and that he wanted his daughter to be wed when spring came so she would have at least a small piece of home with her. Soon she had forgotten about her father's suspicious behaviour, finding silly excuses so she could give all her attention on preparing everything for her betrothed's arrival; a feast with bards and meals of the North, the best wine of the South and a beautiful dress in grey and white with golden roses to hug her slender figure._

_When the day finally came, she had waited in the courtyard next to her family and as her eyes landed on Robb's her breath caught in her throat and a smile tugged at her lips. Her memory had not done him justice, not even in the slightest. She had found herself wanting to run into his arms and kiss him breathless but only curtsied when he approached, her gaze lingering on the floor as was appropriate. "Your Grace", Mace had called out while bowing as far as his fat stomach would let him. "It is an honour to host you and your men at our home." The King had said nothing in return and carefully Margaery had raised her eyes to look up only to be met by his warm smile. He had almost ignored her father and with surprise she had felt Robb taking her hands in his, coldness meeting warmth, raising them to his lips before pressing a soft kiss to each of them which sent a shiver down her spine. "My lady, it is good to see you again." It seemed to her than that she had lost her head over him and not the other way around._

_Highgarden was much easier to sneak away to silent corners. The gardens were one of her favourite places and by the time she had reached her eighth name day she had known every inch by heart. The first time she led Robb to them she could not suppress the laugh escaping her lips and pride overtaking her as she took in his awestruck expression. "You were right", he had breathed. "This truly is beautiful." His blue eyes had roamed over everything he had never seen before - fields of roses, exotic plants and fruits and_**_so much_**_green - but she had only tugged at his hand to make him follow her even deeper into the gardens. __  
__"I am afraid we do not have the possibilities to create something even close to this at Winterfell." He had sounded almost sad and when she turned around to face him there was regret pooling in his eyes. It was the first time she had noticed that Robb Stark, King in the North, was afraid of not making her happy and it seemed so contradictory to her that she had raised her hands to cover his cheeks, shaking her head in surprise. "If I wanted gardens and roses and warmth I would stay at Highgarden", she had said plainly and he had scoffed. __  
__"Aye, but your father-…" he had stuttered but she had not let him finish because how did this man always and always worry about something and not just live for a moment? "The Others can take my father", she had whispered and leant in to finally press her lips to his in a kiss that left both of them breathing heavily.__  
__"So you think you can be happy at Winterfell?"__  
__"I will tell you exactly how happy I will be, if you can catch me", she had laughed and turned around to run and hide in the woods. He had found her, in the end, like he would always find her._

She would never admit it but her legs are shaking slightly when she enters Joffreys chambers. "You wanted to see me, Your Grace."

He sits across the room, loaded crossbow in hand that points directly at her and when he raises his gaze, his eyes are so full of disgust; it sends a shiver running down her spine.  
"Yes, My Lady, I have something to ask you." He beckons her to come closer and slowly she takes one step after another so she is only three feet away from him, her eyes fixated on his hands which stroke the weapon as if it was his very own child. She can only guess why he wanted to see her, why he seems so angry. She has heard the rumours, has heard the maids whispering behind her back: _he is coming for her_. Whenever she would catch their voices hushed, mumbling words of Robb riding south for her she cannot help the smile that comes to her face.  
But now she is standing directly before another King – a King who is nothing but cruel and ruthless and enjoys hurting others. The crossbow is still directed at her while Joffreys lips turn upwards in a sick grin. "Your former betrothed is marching south, killing my men."  
His gaze is fixed on her, green eyes seeming to look right through her. She swallows hard and tries to remember how to smile one of these innocent, lovely smiles which seem to fool everyone around her. "Your Grace", she starts, her voice trembling oh so slightly but Joffrey interrupts her, face stern with anger. "Do you know why", he demands to know. She needs a moment to think of an answer that will keep her alive and sound believable at the same time. Slowly, carefully, she takes one more step towards the boyking, her hands raised in front of her while her heart might just beat out of her chest.  
"No, Your Majesty, I do not know. I can only guess that…", she pauses and slides next to him onto the bench, so she is out of reach of that damn crossbow. He raises an eyebrow at her but does no move to speak or point the weapon at her again, so she looks to the ground, face a mask of guilt. "I think my wish to marry you instead of… instead of King Robb has hurt his pride deeply and he wishes revenge on that", she lies and is surprised how easily the words slip off her tongue. _You're doing this to survive_, she reminds herself. _So your family might survive_. "From what I saw of him, he is no man to take such a betrayal lightly."  
She turns her head to look at Joffrey who seems rather pleased with her answer, a slow smile curving the corners of his lips upwards. "Oh, I thought as much. My father always told me of those Starks and their honour", he spits the words out as if they were venom in his mouth and she cringes with the need to defend the family she had come to care for so deeply. "That aunt of his was the reason my father got the throne but she was a whore nonetheless, running around with men who she did not belong to." His gaze hardens, his hand darts out to catch her wrist and he pulls her in closer. "You do well not to talk about Robb Stark at all, do you understand." She is so shocked by his sudden outburst, by the way his fingers dig into her flesh that no coherent sentence can leave her mouth. "Your Majesty I can assure you I… I never… I am glad that…"  
"As you should be", he hisses between clenched teeth. "Or you will regret it dearly." The next moment he lets her go, the features of his face soften and he raises his hand to run it through her hair. "My sweet lady", he smiles but gestures for her to leave the next second and she does, trying not to make it look like she is in a hurry to get away from him.  
When she finally reaches her chamber and can slow down, her heart is still racing and pounding against her ribcage while her wrist burns. She will most likely have a bruise the next morning but she does not care. Slowly a smile spreads on her lips, silly laughter escaping before she can pull herself together; because _Joffrey is scared_. And if he is scared of Robb it can only mean he is losing and soon enough she will leave all this behind her.

_It is far too easy_, he thinks day after day. With the joined armies of the North, the Vale and the Riverlands he has over 70 000 men at his command, an army he could never have imagined in his dreams. The days blur into one another, some filled with battle some with lingering in one place so his soldiers can have a bit of a rest. The King in the North, however, cannot enjoy as much as an hour of sleep. He paces in his tent or through the encampment, counting the minutes until they can take off again. It is far too easy and for some reason he is afraid that it all might just be a trap – that maybe when they arrive in King's Landing Margaery's bloodied body will hang from the castle walls or she will wear a crown of gold and rubies on her head instead of the one of bronze and iron his smith had crafted for her moons ago.  
It is on one of his walks, his forehead wrinkled with worry, that Roose Bolton accompanies him. "We are past the God's Eye, Your Grace. The letter from King Stannis states the forces of the Stormlands will meet ours at the Blackwater Rush." The Baratheon brother's had decided to ally with the King in the North only a few days before to secure an even larger army and Robb needed their ships to take the city. It felt surreal how the whole realm seemed to unite to clean the Iron Throne of Joffrey, all because of _a simple girl_.

"We'll have almost a hundred thousand men", he wonders aloud while his eyes roam over ranks of tents and soldiers, some drinking, some sleeping. "There will be no real battle. The Tyrells just now raised their army." He knows his men are tired as he is himself; he knows they want to go home to their wives and children and wait out the winter which is sure to come now. All he longs for are the safe walls of Winterfell and Rickon's silly laughter and Bran chasing Arya around the halls and Margaery leaning into him. It will all be over soon, he wishes.

"Your Grace, we have a fair chance at winning but", the other man stops in his tracks and his eyes roam over his king's face – tired and worried and a little bit broken too. "I have heard rumor that our men are worried about the purpose of this war."

"What is there to be worried about", Robb demands to know, his voice as sharp as the blade of his greatsword. "Joffrey robbed me of my happiness. Now we are returning the favor."

They'll ride for the Blackwater Rush the next morning, the sound of horses echoing through his head like a mantra: _We will make it in time. Gods, let us make it in time._

_She had visited him one last time, when the winter had seemed to fade into spring, another False Spring. It had been one of the happiest times when Margaery had been running around the courtyard, skirts swirling in the snow, while engaging in a snowball fight with his younger siblings. Even sweet, courteous Sansa had not been able to deny the future Queen's doe eyed pleas and it was a snowball of hers that hit him right at the head when he stepped outside. Pieces of ice had trickled from auburn curls and down his face and the cold assault had shocked him so much that he was not able to laugh or speak so much as one word. Sansa had guiltily looked towards the ground, cheeks stained red from snow and embarrassment and it was Margaery who strolled towards him as gracious as ever, hands outstretched to frame his face while a happy smile grazed her lips. Ever so gently she had brushed the melted wetness from his face with her gloved hands. "I was wondering when you would join us. I believe the King in the North must defend his castle when the snowballs attack." It had been an afternoon filled with laughter and silly war shouts, without duty or obligations._  
_Later, the King and his betrothed had dined together in small lit chambers, seeking some time alone from the watchful eyes of her brothers or his mother. "Father said he wants to wait until spring comes before we are wed." Her mouth had been curled into a pout; her eyes so full of annoyance that a small laugh had escaped his lips at her grimace. He had tugged her closer until she had been seated in his lap and he could bring his mouth up to hers. "Then maybe I am to talk with your brothers and send a raven to your father. If it is what my Lady desires."_

_She had left for Highgarden a fortnight later, despite her wish to stay. When they bid good-bye in the courtyard where everyone had gathered to see the Tyrells off, she had promised to write to him as often as she could and that she would convince her father to not delay the wedding any further. "I will see you soon, my king", she had whispered a little out of breath before kissing him hungrily. It had taken him so much by surprise that he had stumbled a little but catching her nonetheless. His cheeks had still been burning when her horse had disappeared through the gates. It had been such happy, carefree weeks that should be crushed so soon._

"Willas has written another letter." Olenna shakes her head disapprovingly, throwing the piece of paper on the table. It lands between plates of fruits and cheese and cake. "He will not attend your wedding. He says it is because he must stay at Highgarden in his father's stead." She makes an angry, hissing sound through clenched teeth. "He always liked that northern King almost as much as you did."

Margaery does not give an answer. Her gaze is directed to her plate, a small smile turning the corners of her mouth upwards. She has heard the handmaiden's nervous whispers of Stannis leading his fleet down the Blackwater and joining forces with the King in the North so they might take the city. She has heard how they call it _Robb's Rebellion_ and her Lady Lyanna reborn. Those are silly tales and silly beliefs because her story will have a happy ending. She will not die locked away in a tower and never see Robb again.

"What are you smiling about", Olenna inquires, face contorted in annoyance as is so often the case now. Maybe she had thought Robb a better husband too, yet they do not need the North; they need the favor of the king in their realm, as her father keeps reminding her.  
Still the thought of Willas refusing to come because he hates for his sister to be married to the wrong man is a relieving realization. She remembers seeing him and Robb talking in Highgarden, hear of the letters they sometimes wrote all in friendship and none because of duty or her. It had been so simple how both of them had fitted into each other's family so easily; how she had come to love little Rickon and wild Arya, courteous Sansa, smart Bran, even mostly silent Jon; how he had gotten along so well with all three of her brothers. Joffrey had neither met the most part of her family nor did he care. He barely spent any more time with her than necessary though she was grateful for that.

"You think that boy will come and rescue you?" Olenna scoffs, shaking her head in disbelief at her granddaughter's unusual naivety. "He will die in this war that is for sure."  
The words send a shiver down her spine, freezing her bones and sucking the air from her lungs because even the thought of Robb dead and lifeless, blue eyes staring into nothingness, scares her to her core. She swallows, hard, jaw clenched with determination as she turns to her grandmother. She means well, she knows she does, but she does not want all their wishes if it is to be Queen to a monster.

"He will not die." It is a promise, a prayer, she repeats to herself at night, at the sept, in the godswood of the Red Keep. Joffrey will have nothing and she will go far north. It is the most beautiful of dreams.

It should not be that easy. They should not break through gates so easily, should not fight citywatch and Lannister men and have almost no resistance. Mace Tyrell's army had not even made it half-way to King's Landing, and maybe that was thanks to Willas, and the rest of the forces proved little resistance.  
His blade and armour are coated in blood of enemies and friends alike – some he killed, other's he held while dying, wishing it would not cost as much as it did. _For a simple girl_. His legs move quicker the closer they get to the castle because he has to save her. She is in danger, a city attacked by him means Joffrey will use her against him if he is not fast enough.  
His muscles burn from exhaustion and still he runs faster, ducking and slashing his sword at screaming enemies, blood dripping everywhere and he must look every bit like the savage king those southerners think he is.

He is not the first to enter the throne room, his man scattered across the great hall, weapons raised as if to run at any moment but their eyes dart from him to the throne as he enters. Two kingsguard lie motionless on the floor beneath Joffrey, his eyes wide with fear, body shaking, _hands_ shaking and bloody and holding a knife to the only person that matters in this room. The world is spinning beneath the king's feet, breathing rapid as blue eyes meet frightened brown ones and notice the tears on Margaery's cheeks.

"You or one of your savages take one more step and I'll cut her pretty throat in half." The boy king's voice is shaking, sweat and tears covering his face and a broken laugh tears from his throat. "I am dead anyway. You will kill me no matter what I do. And I will take this bitch with me if I must, so it will kill you too."

"Joffrey.. Your Grace", she chokes out and just hearing her voice breaks his heart, splits it in two. She had always been so strong and full of life and seeing her lips shuddering now, fingers curled around the arm that is violently pressing her body to the one behind her, makes him regret once more he ever let her go that day when spring seemed to come and she promised to be back soon.

"Shut up or I will-…" They never know what he intended to do as images blur together, an arrow hitting the half of his chest not hidden by Margaerys body and he chokes, eyes cast down to where blood seeps into his clothing. Robb turns, finding one of Stannis determined man standing in front of his own king with a bow held high; but as Joffrey collapses, strength fading, and everyone is rushing forward he slams the knife into Margaerys stomach, digging with all the power he still has before falling to the floor and taking her with him.

The screams tearing from his throat are animalistic, like the wolf he is, as he runs to catch her, too late and only able to cradle her in his arms, hands pressing around the knife to stop the bleeding. She feels too soft, too small next to him, lips slightly parted and eyes wide with pain but her own hands slip through his. "Margaery", he chokes and cries for help though someone most likely already ran to find a maester. "Margaery, just-…"  
"You found me… you came." Her voice breaks with a cough, her body shaking with fear and pain and he has not noticed he started to cry until he can see the wetness dropping on her cheeks.  
"Shhh, just-… just breathe, be still, I am with you now, I…"  
She raises a hand, blood painting her fingertips, and caressing his cheek, drawing a pattern only she can understand while he shakes his head frantically. "No, you will be alright, we will-…"

"Robb…", she whispers and there are other words he can almost feel on her lips, weighing on her heart but whatever it is, it is lost forever as a last shaky breath escapes her, the corners of her lips tugging into a sad smile before brown eyes stare into an eternity of nothingness across his shoulder.

_They were right. Another rebellion, a war raging because of love, ended in tragedy and bloodied bodies._

_Tales of Robb's Rebellion will always end with the king's wolfish howl, with him baring his teeth at any man trying to tear him away from her body or clawing at anyone reaching out to him. Maybe that is the reason Margaery Tyrell was buried in the crypt beneath Winterfell though not even a Stark by name. They say King Robb was not able to part from his beloved even as she had found death and once he died – unmarried, childless and with a smile on his face – they buried him next to her, their statues forever remaining with linked hands._


End file.
